I began with self-induced pressure to write something. I have stopped myself from posting often over the past year for a few reasons—I’m primarily a technical writer, not an emotional one, and me fumbling with my words distresses me that I can’t communicate eloquently the pain, the growth of the past twelve months. Or that I’ll leave out something or someone important in my disjointed thoughts. Also, I don’t want to imply that I’m hosting a pity party. Talking about our grief is intimate, and if I can’t find the right words… you know how that is. People worry they’ll say a wrong thing to the griever so they avoid saying anything at all. I know many of you grieve Markus as well. It’s both heavy and awkward for my fumbling. But having written it, I feel a little lighter.

Today is one of the milestones of sadness. In some ways, the past year has been such a blur of living in survival mode, keeping my head down, getting through a day at a time for so long that it’s confusing how an entire year has passed. I look at photos and talk about him every day, so there have not been days that passed without him constantly there in my heart and mind. In other ways, I was carrying the full load, even a heaver load, for much longer than one year, so I wonder how it’s only been one year. It feels like forever since I heard his laugh, since we last snuggled and held hands. My sense of time is very muddled. 

Then there is the daily grind of parenting, being sole head of household, being responsible to the grief and wellbeing of three children. Their grief manifests in separation anxiety and frequent infections from stress-lowered immune function.  We are driving an hour to the pediatrician later today. We can’t get local care established with their annual well check because the wait time is three months, and they have not gone more than a month without being sick this year.

So, all that sounds like a pity party to me, but our life has joy daily. My family is wonderful and supportive. My sisters are a huge blessing. In my household we are free to talk to each other about feelings and have grown closer. Grief takes work—time does not heal emotional wounds. I have a fantastic counselor that specializes in grief. We have found Hope Hospice in New Braunfels has a child bereavement program, so the boys recently began play therapy. Maddy’s school has connected her to counseling as well. 

The kids are all excelling academically. Hank (3rd grade) loves simple algebraic problems (e.g. if 3x + 3 = 30, solve for x) and now writes his own for fun. Felix is in a kindergarten classroom where the teacher speaks only in Spanish. He has learned to read in both Spanish and English already. Maddy has gotten so far ahead at Live Oak Academy, she only has to attend for half a day, and will be a senior next fall. The boys both play soccer. Markus would be thrilled with all this.

While I prayed for Markus’ healing, he told me he prayed for my faith, because he knew I needed to lean into God to get our family through this trauma. His prayers got answered. I have a faith I never had before. When we were dating I brought Markus to church; Markus brought me to Jesus. There’s a big difference. I grew up attending church, reciting liturgy, but not conversing with God. God was someone to be reverently feared like my own dad. Through a wonderful grief program at our church, I learned to build trust in the Lord and let Him carry me through my pain. (The program is GriefShare, and it is hosted in many churches across the country—I highly recommend finding a group when you are grieving.) 

In GriefShare we were given an analogy that changed my perspective. Have you ever seen the backside of beautiful needlework? What a mess of crossed threads, a jillion knots, dangling ends. It’s usually not at all representative of the outward design. The plans God has for us are good. It’s just that the huge tapestry is facing up, and only He can see the big picture. We are on the underside, tiny human brains, seeing just a portion, and even that portion looks like an unfinished mess of loose ends. I’ll never understand it all looking at it from this way. I “only” have to trust that He sees it, He’s in control, and He loves us. (Jeremiah 29:11)

Our pastor tells us to relentlessly keep our eyes on Jesus. That has given me tremendous perspective as well. We play praise music around the clock. At first it was because I did not have the capacity to get ambushed by pop love songs that ripped at my raw heart. Now it’s because I genuinely prefer music that keeps my eyes on Jesus. 

In late summer, I began working part-time in our church office. In August, my brain could not function beyond getting through a day. By November, I was starting to see full weeks. When New Years hit, I was blindsided. A whole year without Markus? No! No thank you. I was not going to do 2024. Of course the march of time is not optional. I’m pretty good at functioning on a month level now. Things sneak up on me out of nowhere less frequently. My executive functioning is coming back, slowly but surely. Working in the office has made me much more connected with our church community, and reduced my feelings of isolation from moving to a new town followed by pandemic. Caregiving for my children, and my mom post-stroke, and being the one-woman-behind-the-scenes pit crew for Markus’ bucket list and health care was so all-consuming for so many years, it’s akin to emerging from beneath a big rock.

Our world has also grown by joining a community group from another church last summer. Every Tuesday we meet with a group of families for fellowship and Bible study. The boys have really connected with the other kids and Melissa who teaches them a weekly lesson. I have found deep and meaningful friendship that I just did not have locally for four years. I have several distant friends who are amazingly supportive and chat with me daily, and it’s so good to have friends I can hug in person too. We have a community at our church and in our town now that lifts us up and gives us life. I am so, so grateful.

At this point, although I feel like I’ve given a good update of the past year, I also feel like this was “all about me” and not enough about Markus. Quite simply, he’s irreplaceable. His sense of humor, his exquisite problem-solving, the depth of his love and affection… legendary. He was truly my partner in life. There is this gaping hole in my life that will always be there. Just like the holes left by my dad, and my sister. They don’t go away. Life grows bigger around the holes, but there’s never a time their absence will go unnoticed, unfelt. My heart aches for his companionship, and for the little dumb things like him misplacing his glasses daily. Maddy forgot to pack underwear this weekend, which I truly found delightfully Markus-like. A lifetime is excruciatingly long to be away from him. God is good, all the time. I’m grateful he is out of pain and in paradise. One year closer. Still here to raise our precious kids. Still here to do the work He has planned for me.  💙